by Clay Held
“He fears losing his position more,” Nathan said bitterly. “Someone might oust him like he did to Nicodemus.”
Mr. Nettle rose from his chair and began stoking the fire with an iron poker. “Be careful where you say that. Go around talking like that and it’ll be you who ends up banished.”
Nathan managed a weak smile. “I wouldn’t be entirely without good company at least.”
“This isn’t amusing,” Mr. Nettle said. “Sterling has enemies. We all know that. He is hunting them down and banishing them right and left. He fears another war.”
“The War of the Two Tribes is how we got here,” Nathan said, growing agitated. “It’s how Darrow became what he is. How they found Thule. If we can just find Nicodemus--”
Mr. Nettle’s anger burst. “That man is gone!” He threw the iron poker into the fireplace, and the fire burst into a storm of orange and blue flame. A twin flame erupted from a small piece of crystal around his neck, and his voice slowly crumbled. “Sterling is our man now. Not Limnic. He can not, will not, return.” He stared into the flames again. Nathan stood patiently, his hands folded in front of him while Mr. Nettle crumpled against the fireplace mantel. He did not speak for several moments, and Simon could just faintly hear a clicking sound right outside the door. “We need to take this to the council,” Nettle finally said.
“Tried and failed. They wouldn’t hear it.”
“Then we go again.” Mr. Nettle straightened himself. “I will go with you.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Nathan said. “You have your family to think about. Besides, Sterling will never budge, not even with the full weight of the council against him. You’d only be making yourself an enemy. We both know that.”
Mr. Nettle stared deeply into the fireplace before speaking again. “If what you say is true, then we must do everything we can.”
Nathan hesitated, glanced at Simon. “There is something else you can do.” Nettle was quiet, his eyes still fixed on the fireplace. Nathan put his hand on Mr. Nettle’s shoulder. “Tell me where to find him.”
Nettle sighed. “I’ve told you, I don’t know where Limnic--”
“Not Limnic,” Nathan said. “Boeman.”
The kitten snored and kicked its feet.
“Nathan...” Nettle was surprised. “I--”
“You can tell me where we can find him.” Nathan tapped the crystal around Nettle’s neck. “Don’t pretend you can’t. Use your talents to help us.”
“Scrying?” Mr. Nettle shook his head, suddenly angry. “Nathan I cannot--I will not...” The black kitten stretched on the corner of the desk, kicking the red quill onto the floor. “Oh by Salem!” Mr. Nettle thundered. “Penny!”
Penny appeared in the side doorway suspiciously quick, her sister’s mechanical pieces currently assembled into a beetle which clicked wildly on her shoulder. “Yes, Dad?”
“Penny,” Mr. Nettle said, his voice quickly growing soft and gentle. “I think your kitten needs fed.”
Penny’s eyes brightened. “Malkin?” she said, her voice quiet and cheerful. The kitten lifted its head at the sound of its name. “Here kitty,” she chirped, scooping up the ball of fur. “I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing in here?”
“I’d say she’s been spying on us,” Mr. Nettle said, giving his daughter a knowing look. “I hope she isn’t planning anything. You know she doesn’t need to be getting into any more trouble.”
“She won’t, Dad.” Penny’s face flushed slightly. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Good to hear it,” Mr. Nettle said. “Now, better feed her.”
Penny glanced at Simon as she left. Even though she held the kitten up towards her face, Simon swore she was hiding a tiny smile as she passed. At least, he hoped it was a smile.
“I need to find him,” Nathan said after Penny had left. “Please, Peter.”
“You need to handle this right,” Mr. Nettle said, removing his crystal necklace and placing it in his desk. “Have faith in the council. They will send an inquiry.”
“They’re dispatching Mancer Wisely,” Nathan said. “The Wolf of the Woods.”
“I know him,” Simon said suddenly, desperate to keep a foothold in the conversation. His words bounced off both men, who stared at each other, then at him.
“Seems Frank has been keeping a few secrets of his own,” Mr. Nettle said. “Simon, are you saying that Mancer Wisely has been in contact with Thatch?”
“He’s our bread man,” Simon said. “I see him every morning. He’s almost one of the family.”
Mr. Nettle looked at Nathan incredulously.
“What’s the big deal about that?” Simon asked.
“Sam was Frank’s apprentice before he left,” Nathan glanced at Mr. Nettle. “Hey, I didn’t know! Sam didn’t just go to ground, he set up warding spells to beat the devil. It makes sense when you think about it. Sam all but became a ghost to hide him.”
“Why?” Simon asked. “Why did they hide me? Why hide from all this? Why leave this place?
Nathan and Mr. Nettle exchanged a long and wearied look. “Simon, they hid you because a deal was made with Boeman. Sam had to act quickly when the time came to collect. He tricked Boeman and took you into hiding. He did it to save...”
“What?” Simon asked, his voice already rising.
The two men stared at each other, both of them suddenly unwilling to speak.
“WHAT!” Simon all but knocked over the stack of papers on Mr. Nettle’s desk, yet the two men were still silent.
“So many secrets,” giggled the Other Voice.
Mr. Nettle finally cleared his throat. His voice was grave. “Your soul.”
Simon stared at them, feeling all the color drain from his face. “Huh?”
Nathan’s eyes dropped to the floor. He wouldn’t look Simon in the eyes when he spoke. “It was your parents, Simon. They sold your soul.”
* * *
Nathan lead Simon slowly down a large hallway into the manor dining hall. This room was the largest yet, from the rolling thick green carpet, to the rustic log cabin walls, to the high vaulted ceiling built entirely of wood. A massive stone fireplace dominated the room, and above it, a large, stuffed head of a buffalo. Absolutely everywhere Simon looked something was happening--table after table was filled by every kind of person imaginable, all of them eating, talking, laughing, or leaving. In some small way it reminded Simon of the Paw.
While Simon picked halfheartedly at his food, Nathan suddenly excused himself, asking Simon to stay at the table until he returned. He sat alone, trying to detangle everything they had told him. His soul, they had said. Your parents sold your soul. What did that even mean? Nathan said his parents had been good--do good people sell souls? Nothing about it made any sense. Did he still have it? Part of it? Almost none? Did that explain why he always felt so broken?
“What else are they keeping from you?” asked the Other Voice.
“Cheer up, Stray.” Luke said, breaking Simon’s thoughts and settling into the chair next to him. “The way you’re moping people around here are going to think you’re under a hex or something.”
Simon slammed his fork on the table. “Just what do you want? Every time I turn around you’re in my shadow. I have no money, I have nothing you could want. So just leave me alone, okay?” He stabbed at his green beans. “Find someone else to bother.”
Luke grabbed a piece of chicken from the enormous platter in the middle of the table. “Well, now, can’t a fella just sit and break bread with another traveler? Look around, Stray. This is an open area.”
“You want something,” Simon said. “What I can’t understand is why you think I have anything.”
Luke dropped his chicken onto the plate. “Is that all you think? That I want something? You ever stop to think that maybe I’m trying to help you?”
“Help?” Simon scoffed. “How.” He tried to keep from looking obvious, but his eyes darted around, waiting for Maggey to suddenly buzz
him.
“You need something,” Luke said. “I’ve seen that look plenty of times. Lost. Alone. Sure, you might have your watchdog looking over your shoulder, but his hands are tied, aren’t they? They always are.” He scooped some dumplings onto his plate. “Now, I can help you. My hands aren’t tied by nothing. I’m a free agent. I can get you what you need. Anything, anything at all, anything in the whole wide world.” He ate a forkful of potatoes. “For a price.”
Simon laughed, despite himself. “You’re fooling yourself, Luke. I don’t have any money.”
“Ain’t money I’m after, Stray. What I want is information. Spells, incantations, charms. That’s how I deal.”
“How’s your mentor feel about that? I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate his apprentice sneaking around without him, making deals behind his back.”
Luke leaned in close, until he was almost whispering. “What do you think you’re doing, right now?”
“I haven’t agreed to help you. You don’t even know what I’m looking for.” He set his fork down. “And Nathan is not my mentor.”
“Don’t matter,” Luke said, rising from the table. “You help me, we’ve got a deal. I’ll help you with whatever you’re up to. There has to be something here you want.”
Simon stared at his plate, trying to push away thoughts of his soul, thoughts of how untrustworthy Nathan had become. He thought of the crystal around Mr. Nettle’s neck, how he had put it in his desk during their meeting. He had seemed unwilling to let them use it.
“Sounds important,” said the Other Voice.
“There is one thing I think I need,” Simon said. “In the Archives.”
Luke smiled. “Now we’re talking. Just tell me when and where.”
“The garden tonight,” Simon said, trying to sound confident. “Meet me at midnight.”
“Well, look at you,” Luke said. “Mr. Merlin and everything. You should know midnight is a dangerous time--too many omens at work.” He held out his hand. “We’ll meet at eleven instead. You help me, and I’ll help you. Deal?”
It was odd seeing Luke act so formal, but he took his hand regardless. “Fine, whatever. Deal.”
A small spark stung his hand as they shook.
“Our deal is sealed,” he said, rising from the table. “Tonight. Eleven.” Luke rose from the table, then hurried from the dining room, ducking through the kitchen door just as Nathan returned with Kate.
“Hello, Simon,” Kate said, a smile spreading across her face. “Eating alone?”
Simon looked at both of them for a moment, his eyes flickering to Nathan’s plate. Luke had taken this food with him, leaving only a few crumbs. “Yep. Just me.”
“Mind if we join you?” she said, pulling out a seat next to Nathan. “I hear you’re looking for someone.”
The look on Simon’s face must have revealed something, because a moment later Nathan quietly said, “It’s okay, Simon. We can count on Kate.”
“Like we could count on Mr. Nettle?” Simon turned over the piece of chicken on his plate. “He was plenty of help.”
Kate looked to Nathan. “Peter not work out for you?”
“That’s one way to put it,” Simon muttered to his mashed potatoes.
Nathan glanced at him but let the comment slide. “I’m sure he has something telling us how to find Boeman,” Nathan said. “He was more occupied in keeping things on the official side though. I can’t really blame him, I guess.”
“You need somebody who will keep things out from under my uncle’s nose.” Kate smiled. “I know him better than most. He won’t leave either of you alone while you’re here. That’ll make keeping things quiet more difficult.”
“I never said quiet,” Nathan said. “Just unofficial.”
Kate smiled. “You have something clever in mind?”
Nathan took a bite of his food. “Werewolves.”
The suggestion clunked onto the table. Kate and Simon stared at him. “Excuse me?” they said together.
“What?” Nathan said. “I don’t mean on the grounds. Just...you know, a sighting, or six. Out in the woods.”
Kate raised her eyebrows. “And how are you planning to create six sightings?”
“Cynric’s agreed to help sound the alarm. Besides, I’ve been working on my Air trade,” Nathan said boastfully. “I’m becoming quite the amateur conjurer.”
“Conjuration?” Kate gave Nathan a doubtful look. “I seem to remember someone causing a rather large rift over the lake when they were first learning how to conjure.
“Like you said, I was learning,” Nathan said. “I’ve had plenty of time to practice,” he said defensively.
“Conjuring,” Simon said blankly. “Werewolves.”
“Well, yeah,” Nathan said, shoving another forkful into his mouth. “Well, just wolves, really. Wolf-shaped. It’ll work. They’ll think they’re werewolves, anyway, so it’s a bonus, really.” Another forkful. “Conjuring is easy, well, easier, than some forms of magic. Very little mess to clean up if things go wrong.”
“When they go wrong,” Kate said. “You really need to know what you’re doing,” Kate added, looking at Nathan.
“I said I’ve been practicing the trade,” Nathan repeated.
“Why are you calling it a trade?” Simon asked.
Kate glance at Nathan. “He doesn’t know?”
Nathan paused, the fork already halfway to his mouth again. He set the fork back down slowly. “No,” he said quietly. “Sam kept him in the dark. He was going to let the magic fade from him.”
“You poor thing,” she said, turning to Simon. “No wonder. This must be very confusing.”
“I’ve got most of it,” Simon said defensively.
“It’s okay not to know. I understand why Sam kept this from you.” Kate looked to Nathan before continuing. “Air is one of the six trades of magic. Illusions and conjuring, mostly. If your trade is air, then you have a chance of being a powerful illusionist--of learning all its secrets. Now, others...” she glanced at Nathan. “Your talents can be anywhere, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn other trades. You just have to practice more to get the spell work right. Right, Nathan?”
“I said I’ve been practicing,” Nathan said, almost hurt. “Why just last month I conjured a, well, it was...”
Kate and Simon both waited for Nathan to answer, eyebrows raised.
“A boot.”
“Oh, well.” Kate bit her lip. “There we go. A boot.”
“It was a very fashionable boot.”
“Nathan, maybe you should just leave the conjuring to me,” Kate said. “Stick to your own talents on this one.”
Simon looked at his hands. “What are the other trades?”
“Five others,” Kate said. She turned to Nathan. “You didn’t tell him any of this?”
“I was getting there,” Nathan said. “We’ve kind of had larger hounds to hunt, Kate.”
She stared at Nathan, then turned back to Simon. “Six total. Air, like I said, is for conjuring. It’s counterpart is Earth. Then there is Fire and its counterpart, Water.”
“He’s seen fire magic at work already,” Nathan said. “It was how Boeman got Sam out in the open, past the warding spells.”
“He was running out after me,” Simon said bitterly.
“You had no choice,” Nathan insisted. “That wasn’t regular fire, Simon. Spellfire is wicked, vicious, cruel. Sam couldn’t fight it for very long. Not even the Archmancer could. He wanted you to run out. Staying inside would have meant death, for both of you.”
Simon looked down. “It’s meant death for him.”
“Don’t,” Nathan said. “Don’t you start talking like that. We are going to find him.”
Simon stared quietly at the plate in front of him. “What are the last two?”
“Magic of the soul,” Kate said softly. “Split in two parts, called Light and Darkness. They’re the very first trades, the truly cosmic forces, and the oldest and most dangerous of all th
e trades. From before even the days of the First Secrets.”
“They’re strong stuff,” Nathan said. “Strong enough to find Sam. We just need a little...assistance.”
“Mr. Nettle won’t help,” Simon said. “So what do we do?”
“We don’t need him necessarily,” Nathan said, dumping a small amount of sugar on the table. “We only need some...tools he has in his office. Peter wasn’t always such a choir boy, don’t forget that.” He tapped his finger three times on the table. His eyes flashed bright blue, and the tiny pile of sugar began to form into a shape. It thrashed and moved quietly, growing multiple nubs, six in all, each stretching and taking shape slowly. The pile stood, taking four nubs for legs, then the other two on each end becoming a head and a tail. The blob shook itself like a wet dog, and the form of a wolf finally coalesced. It started to trot happily around the table between the plates, itself no bigger than a walnut.
“See?” Nathan said, folding his arms, clearly pleased with himself. “Simple as that. Except, well, you know...bigger.” Nathan held his arms out wide. “Big.”
Kate and Simon stared at the pile of sugar on the table. “Sugar wolves,” Kate said. “Well, you were right. “That’s certainly not quiet.”
* * *
That evening Simon stood outside the door to his room waiting for Luke. He had tried to catch some sleep in the afternoon but couldn’t, so he had killed some time by skimming through some of the books that had appeared on a small bookshelf next to his bed. One book, An Introduction to Conjuring, had caught his attention. He flipped through it idly, thinking on the off chance he might see what spell Nathan had used to conjure the wolf. After several more minutes of searching Simon gave up, utterly frustrated with the inaccessibility of the subject matter. These were books for people raised in the trades, not him. He was an outsider here, the only place he really belonged.
Just another way of being broken.
The rest of the books seemed surprisingly like schoolbooks, however. They all had straightforward, inelegant names written in gold across the covers: CURSES, said one book, and next to it was a slightly larger book with the title COUNTER CURSES. Next to them he found six more books, each with the name of one of the halls of magic, each title written in shimmering gold lettering, and at the end of the shelf was a book unlike any of the others, smaller than a textbook, and its cover was plain brown leather. He flipped through it, front to back, but found nothing written inside. It was just as out of place as Simon.